


How Can You Miss Someone You've Never Met?

by the_sun_is_a_deadly_laser



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bc It Happens In The Book And Movie, But The Memory Thing Still Happens, Confusion, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, M/M, Richie Tozier is a Mess, They Killed Pennywise When They Were Kids, They Need Help With Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sun_is_a_deadly_laser/pseuds/the_sun_is_a_deadly_laser
Summary: Richie didn't remember his childhood. He rarely thought about it, honestly. But when he did, he didn't mean to. He'd see someone in red running shorts or a colored polo, he felt something he didn't understand:He felt a longing.It wasn't sexual or anything. It was... sad. Like he was missing someone terribly. But it didn't make sense, so he tried to ignore it for as long as he could. It wasn't until he was getting sued for property damage, which he didn't do, thank you very much, and Steve, his agent, hired a risk assessor for some weird reason.As soon as Richie sees him, the longing that he'd ignored for most of his life hit him harder than ever.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 19
Kudos: 179





	How Can You Miss Someone You've Never Met?

**Author's Note:**

> yknow when you look at a word for too long and it looks wrong? that's how I feel about Edward.

"Richie, you need to work with us here," Steve sighed. Richie threw up his hands. 

"What is there to work with? I didn't do it!" 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have a risk assessor coming-" 

_"Why?"_

"Because you're a fucking menace, Richie!" 

Richie scoffed. "Thanks, Mr. Agent Manager Man. Expect a _huge_ surprise in your Christmas bonus!" 

Steve looked like he was ready to explode. "Why won't you just give us your alibi?!" 

He bit the inside of his cheek. The truth was that Richie was hooking up with some random guy from a bar. But he couldn't tell Steven he was gay. It would ruin his brand, his image, career, everything. Besides, he didn't even want to admit it to himself. Each time he went home with someone, he told himself, _This is the last time. I'll be fixed after this._

Funnily enough, that didn't work. 

In fact, it did the opposite. Richie wanted more, more, more. Always more. The man he went home with last night was wearing a light pink polo, which triggered a strange feeling in him. Red running shorts and colored polos made him feel... weird. Helpless and wanting. He didn't really want to have sex with the guy, he just wanted to be held and cry, but he couldn't do that to a random stranger in a bar, so he supposed having sex with him was the next best option. 

Whenever he felt that feeling, there was a name on the tip of his tongue but he could never find it. It drove him crazy each and every time. After the man would walk out of sight or leave his apartment, Richie would sit on the edge of his bed, gripping his hair, and cry because he _missed_ something. Someone. 

He would love to drink away the problem, but whenever he tried to, he became a sad drunk and it just made everything worse. 

Sometimes he had dreams, more like nightmares, actually, where he'd be with someone. He didn't know who, but the hole that he thought he could never fill was full. Overflowing with love and happiness. He would wake up, lurching forward with his hand out, the name that was _just_ out of reach at all times came a little closer for a moment. 

For some reason, he got the feeling in such an overwhelming way when he saw a short, beautiful redhead across the street one day that he threw up into a trashcan. When he looked up, she was gone. 

He woke up one morning, his mind racing, _BillStanBevBenMikeEDDIE,_ but the thoughts were gone so quickly that he couldn't remember them.

Richie swallowed and looked up at Steve. "No." 

Steven slammed his hands down on the table and Richie tried his hardest to not flinch at the noise. "God _damn it,_ Richie! It can't be that bad!"

He let out a laugh, a wheezy sound that made Steve look like he wanted to strangle him. To be fair, he would rather die than admit to his manager that he was gay. Sadly, Steve's murderous gaze was lifted as there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in," he called over his shoulder before giving Richie a threatening look, telling him to have a filter for once in his damn life. As if. Fuck that. 

The door opened and a man in a suit stepped in and closed the door behind him. When he turned around, the Feeling hit Richie harder than ever. He thought he might need to throw up, but instead, he was just paralyzed. He couldn't move. 

"Hi," the man started, "I'm Edward Kaspbrak." 

He held out his hand to Steve, who took it and started shaking, but Edward's hand was limp as he met Richie's gaze. 

Richie felt like his world was crumbling around him while building itself up for the first time. He didn't know this man. Yet, at the same time, he had never felt more at home with anyone. Who _was_ this guy?

Edward recovered first, probably because he was the only one of the two of them with an air of professionalism, and held his hand out to Richie, who was suddenly standing up. He cleared his throat.

"I'm Eddie- uh, Edward. Edward Kaspbrak. It's nice to m-meet you." 

_Nice Bill impression._

Hold on. What the fuck was that? Who the fuck was Bill? He shook himself out of his thoughts and took Eddie's- _Edward's_ hand. Edward didn't suit him. He really looked like an Eddie. 

"Richie Tozier," he said shakily. Eddie smiled, tight-lipped with a slight panic behind his wide, beautiful, familiar brown eyes. God, Richie was so glad he was allowed to sit down because he was sure that his knees would buckle at any moment. He sat down heavily, staring at Eddie. Edward. Fucking _Edward._

Edward was looking at him, too. Maybe he was a fan. That thought made all the feelings that Richie was feeling sink and he thought that maybe it was a good thing. Eddie- Edward, Richie, his name is Edward, pull yourself together- looked at Steve. 

"Um, do you want to fill me in on what's happening?" He sounded shaken, like how Richie was feeling. Maybe this wasn't just him. "I just got a name and a location, I'm afraid I don't know what's going on."

_Did he just say he didn't know who Richie was?_

He wasn't a fan. The Feelings started again. All Richie could do was stare. For once in his life, he was quite literally speechless. Completely gobsmacked. 

Steve started going over the case, how a minor comedian was accusing Richie of property damage (it was a fucking fence and it happened to be Richie's car. He wasn't in it). He also explained how Richie didn't have an alibi. "So, I guess we could say that he was out fucking some girl and someone hotwired his car." 

Richie snapped his fingers and instinct took over as he fought to get out of his Eddie- EDWARD, YOU FUCKTARD- state. "Yes. I like that. I'll say she was riding me like Eddie's mom used to do before-" 

He stopped talking. Both Steve and Edward stared at him. Steve's jaw was dropped. To be fair, so was Richie's. He didn't know what the fuck just came out of his mouth. Steve, because it said so in his job description, started covering Richie's ass. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Kaspbrak. He's just shaken up. He's not usually like this-" 

"It's fine," Ed...ward said, waving a hand in what he thought looked like nonchalance. Instead, it looked like he was taking a shit while having an identity crisis. "Let's continue." He turned to Richie. "Why won't you give away your alibi, R- uh, Mr. Tozier?"

"Because some shit would go down if I did." 

He had no idea why he said that. Edward was a complete stranger. 

"It can't be that bad, Richie," Steve tried again. Richie shrugged. 

"Why can't we just say I was fucking Ed-" What the hell? "Uh, that I was fucking some girl?" 

"It's risky to lie in a court of law," Eddie said. Edward said. Why was this so hard for him? "They could demand that the girl get called in for questioning." 

_I mean... they could say the same thing about the guy, but I don't have his number, so..._

"Stripper," he said simply, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans under the table. 

"Strippers don't have sex unless they want to," Edward said. "If you're going to do this, you should say it was a hooker?" 

Richie frowned. "What, are you saying I'm unfuckable?" 

EdFUCKINGward's face turned red and he spluttered to explain himself. "No! That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that hookers are supposed to have sex while strippers chose. I'm sorry, I'm not saying that sex work is bad, I have no problem with it-" 

"Because you like big ones that look like your mother?" 

"Beep beep, Richie. But saying it was a hooker, it-" 

He and Richie stared at each other. What just happened between them? _Beep beep?_ What did that even _mean?_ And since when did Richie make mom jokes about one person's mom and not just moms in general? Steve was looking between them too, a confused look on his face. 

"Are... you two okay?" he asked. 

"Uh, yes." Edward cleared his throat. "It would be eliminating the doubt. About Richie- I apologize, Mr. Tozier having... sex. When the car crash happened." 

Steve nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Kaspbrak." 

Edward nodded. He looked pale. Richie leaned forward, worried, before leaning back, wondering why the fuck he was worried. Edward was a grown man and he could take care of himself. He rubbed his face and that was the first time that Richie noticed a gold wedding ring on his left ring finger. 

He was married. 

Richie didn't know why, but he felt crushed. He wanted to leave because of so many emotions he was feeling, but, at the same time, he never wanted to leave. Ever. He just wanted to be around Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Kaspbrak. Red running shorts and colored polos. Tall, crisp white socks. A hammock. An underground hammock that was only big enough for one but there were two people in it. 

Far, too far back in his mind, he heard a laugh of pure joy and saw a flash of a young boy's face across from him, in the hammock, poking Richie's face with his foot. Adult Richie gasped loudly and looked at Edward, an older version of the boy across from him. 

And that's when Richie threw up. 

Somehow, he made it to a trashcan before he was heaving up his childhood memories, literally. Once he was done and handed a glass of water, he couldn't really remember what he threw up about. He knew the feelings he felt but couldn't visualize what they surrounded: happiness and overwhelming love. 

He needed to know what he was missing. 

He needed Edward around. 

"Eds," he said suddenly. Edward, who was packing up a briefcase, looked at him. 

"What did you just call me?" 

There was no anger or malice in his tone. He seemed to be in some sort of shock, which Richie understood because he was feeling the same way. He realized that he'd been silent and his voice cracked horribly as he said, 

"Uh, I called you Eds." 

"Don't call me that," came his reply, like it was scripted. He didn't look like he meant it. Richie choked on his tongue as he said, desperately, praying to... something that Eddie- Edward would say yes to his offer.

"Do you want to go out for drinks later?" he croaked. He could see Edward's mind reeling. 

"Yeah," he said eventually. "Sure." 

Richie pulled out his phone. "Uh, you can... put in your... number. I guess. If you want." 

Eddie took Richie's phone gingerly and put his number in. Steve caught Richie's eye and he looked like he had put something together. When Edward handed the phone back, their fingers brushed and it shocked Richie. He pulled his hand back with a yelp and so did Edward. They laughed awkwardly and Edward made his way to the door. 

"Text me where you want to meet up," he squeaked out before leaving quickly. As soon as the doors closed, Steve started talking. 

"He's married." 

Richie frowned at him. "So?" 

"So," the douchebag said with a grin, "stop hitting on him." 

Panic gripped hard and cold in Richie's chest, but he played it cool. "I'm not hitting on him." 

Steve stepped in front of the door where Richie was trying to leave because the room was starting to smell like vomit. "You weren't having sex with a girl." 

_He knows._

"Yeah, we established that we were going to lie under oath." 

"You were having sex with a _man!"_

Richie was so fucking glad he took that drama class in college at this moment. He rolled his eyes. "Sure. That works, too." 

"You're gay!" 

Steve was shoved out of the way and Richie walked out. 

"Wha- Richie! It's okay!" 

Richie started speed walking away from him. Steve must've gotten the message because he yelled something about them talking about this later. He rounded a corner and slowed down. His phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket, fully ready to start threatening Steve, but it was a text from... Eddie. He had put his contact name in as _Eddie._

 **Eddie:** Test test. Did Richie get this? 

Richie's palms were needlessly sweaty and his hands were shaking for no reason as he walked forward blindly, trying to find a good response. Finally, after about five minutes, in which he hailed a cab and was halfway to his New York apartment, he texted back. 

**Richie:** hear you loud and clear over in mission control, doctor K! 

He facepalmed as soon as he read it through after he sent it. 

What kind of fucking psychopath creep would send that sort of shit? He was starting to drown in his own embarrassment when his phone went off again. Dying inside, he looked at the screen to see what letdown line Eddie was going to give him. To his surprise and delight, Eddie decided to play along. 

**Eddie:** Thank you, mission control. Do I have permission to land at NoMad's at 7:00 so we can have a drink?

Richie was smiling like an idiot. So he covered his mouth with one hand and texted back with the other. He was sure that he looked like a teenage girl. 

**Richie:** sounds good, doctor K! see you then

Did... was he about to have a drink with a married man he met half an hour ago? His phone went off. 

**Eddie:** See you.

Yes, he decided. Yes, he was. 

\--- 

Richie poked around in his closet, trying to figure out the best shirt to wear. For some reason, his eyes kept drifting over to a loud Hawaiian shirt that he wore... the last time he probably wore it was fifteen years ago. He took it off the hanger with a sigh and slipped it on. 

It still fit. 

He looked at himself in the mirror in his walk-in closet and felt... weird. It wasn't the Feeling, but it was something different. He felt like he was looking at himself, but not how he was. He felt younger. Richie felt like a child for a moment. Not in a weird way, like he was going to go jerk off for the first time, but it was something else. For the first time in a long time, he felt more true to himself than he had in years. 

It couldn't be because of Eddie. Not Edward anymore, thank god, but _Eddie._ No. This whole ordeal had to be a coincidence.

Richie didn't believe in soulmates or _meant to be._

Eddie was something. He didn't know if he was a good something or a bad something, just a _something._

He would've loved to say that 7:00 came fast, but it didn't. The meeting where he first met Eddie had been at 10:30 in the morning, so the eight and a half hours that Richie had to wait were horrible. He watched TV without really watching TV, ordered food, paced, and tried to sleep. He couldn't. So he took a shower, tried to get himself off but couldn't because he was _freaking the fucking fuck out,_ and changed into his Final Outfit for Eddie.

It was 5:00 as he played with his hair, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable. It didn't work. His hair looked okay, he guessed, because it wasn't greasy, but it didn't hide the worry lines on his forehead that he found himself making multiple times on accident. 

It was 5:15 when he looked up NoMad Bar in New York and found the location and planned out his route, when he was going to leave his building, hail a cab, and planned for all possible situations where he couldn't get there. If there was traffic, he would walk. If there was an accident, he would walk. If _he_ got in an accident, he'd tell Eddie and reschedule. If he died, well, uh... he'd try and text Eddie an apology for wasting his time. 

It was 5:23 when he finished planning for the worst. Richie looked around his apartment and frowned. What if Eddie wanted to come home with him? He didn't want to have sex with Eddie. Well... he _did,_ Eddie was hot, but with the feelings that Richie got around, he wasn't sure that he could handle it. What he wanted to do was grab Eddie's shirt, yell something along the lines of, _WHY DO I FEEL THIS WAY AROUND YOU?! DO YOU FEEL IT TOO?!_ And then start crying.

Sounded like a good plan if he wanted to ruin all future plans with Eddie. Actually, he decided he'd remember that if things got bad. 

Was he overreacting? 

No. 

All of this was perfectly logical. 

What was especially logical was Richie sprawling himself over his counter, groaning loudly, as the clock showed the time 5:29. There had to be a way for time to move faster. He decided that staring pointedly at the clock wasn't the best way and he looked away. His phone pinged and he jumped up, scared Eddie was changing his mind. 

**Eddie:** They have food there. Do you want to grab dinner? 

Richie's first emotion was relief. "Oh, thank fuck." And then it was panic. Right now? Right fucking _now?!_ His hands shook in anticipation as he typed out his response. 

**Richie:** right now?

He let out a breath, staring at the text bubble come up and go away a couple of times, killing him. Finally, thirty seconds after he sent his text, Eddie got back with him. 

**Eddie:** If that's okay with you, sure!

Did he want to celebrate or scream in agony? He decided to stay quiet. 

**Richie:** sounds good. i'll see you in a few. 

He threw his phone on the counter and stepped away like he'd been burned. His lock screen lit up and he stepped forward to peer at it, a terrified smile on his face. 

**Eddie:** Looking forward to it. 

For a brief moment, he wondered if Eddie was freaking out like he was but then decided that that was stupid. Eddie was a professional... kind of. Their meeting was just weird. Hopefully, this would be normal. He felt an urge to jump up and down and scream. 

He slipped on his shoes, wearing the same sort of pants he was sure that he had been wearing his entire life and a _loud_ shirt. Part of him wished he still smoked because that would be a great way to let off some steam. He didn't want to be high or drunk with Eddie. He wanted to be fully in the moment and talk to him. Hopefully without throwing up.

Richie stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and jogged to catch the closing elevator as his neighbor stepped out. He shot her a scared smile before slipping through the doors and pressing the ground floor button and spamming the close button. Standing in the corner, tapping his toe on the ground nervously, he looked up at the ceiling and tried to breathe. 

The doors opened and he almost stepped out, but it wasn't his floor. Other people got on and that just made him more nervous. He got a text and looked at it, ignoring all the Twitter notifications. 

**Eddie:** I got us a table in the back.

_He was already there._

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, not noticing the small child next to him and not seeing the glare of the parent. When the doors opened, he almost ran out and tried to catch a cab for three minutes before finally getting one. "NoMad bar, please," he said, trying to think of something to say.

 **Richie:** in a cab. be there soon.

He sighed. 

"First date?" asked the cabbie. She was a young girl, in her early twenties. He shook his head. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You look terrified."

"No," he said shakily. "I'm just... meeting with someone. From work." 

She nodded and hummed. "Is he cute?" 

Richie was about to answer Eddie's question, 'What can I order you?' but this was more pressing. "H-he?" he spluttered. She looked at him through the rearview window as she turned on her blinker. 

"I'd apologize, but I know I'm right." 

"He's married!" Richie protested. Who was this girl? She had red hair and green eyes, not blue, like... like someone. She really reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The Feeling was back but wasn't strong enough to penetrate the panic fortress he had made for himself. The girl smiled to herself. 

"I won't tell anyone," she sighed. His phone went off again. 

**Eddie:** Hello? 

Richie spared one last look at the girl, who wasn't focused on him, and looked back at his phone. 

**Richie:** hi, sorry. i'll take scotch, neat, please. 

The rest of the way there, he didn't say anything to her and she didn't say anything to him. When the car stopped outside the bar, he paid her and got out of there as soon as possible. She knew too much. He walked in the doors and found a high-class bar. There was a little waiter's desk where a man dressed in all black smiled at him pleasantly. 

"Hi," he said. "One?" 

"Uh." Richie was blanking out. "No. I'm, uh. Meeting someone. Eddie. He's in the back." 

The man looked down at something that Richie couldn't see. "Edward Kaspbrak?" he checked. Richie nodded numbly. "Okay, well, I'll take you to him. Follow me." 

"Okay," he squeaked out. 

The waiter walked away and Richie knew he had to follow him. Each step was like lifting a thousand-pound weight, and when he saw Eddie, things got worse. He couldn't move. Eddie saw him too and perked up. The waiter looked between them and smiled. He clapped Richie on the shoulder as he walked back to the front of the restaurant.

"Go get 'em, tiger," he whispered. He gave Richie a little shove that had him stumbling forward. With that momentum, he accidentally ran into the table and had to catch himself with his hands. 

"Sorry," he muttered as he sat down. Eddie handed him his drink. 

"It's okay," Eddie said softly. 

Richie took a bigger gulp than what was probably necessary than his scotch. 

"So, uh," Eddie started, "where are you from?" 

That was a bad question. He didn't really know. "Uh... Maine." He was like, 98% sure about that. "You?" 

"Maine? Me too!" 

He looked really cute. He was drinking a literal glass of red wine. Eddie laughed awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, but- do I- do I know you from somewhere?" he asked. 

Richie's mouth went dry. He didn't know. He honestly didn't. 

"Because I get this feeling that I- that I know you." 

The way he was looking at Richie, all confused and kind of scared, seemed very familiar. The Feeling was there, of course, but the name that he had been looking for what felt like his whole life... he didn't feel like he needed it. That, or... or Eddie was the name he had been looking for so long. 

"I feel like I know you, too," Richie found himself saying. "Did we- did we go to college together?" 

Eddie shook his head. "No, I would remember you." 

Richie raised his eyebrows. "Would you?" 

Eddie looked like he was grinning as he took a sip of wine. "Yeah, I looked you up and watched some stuff. You're fucking obnoxious." 

"What?" Richie laughed, caught off-guard, "You're one to talk, you look like a tiny gremlin!"

"I do not!" 

"Ya huh, you have those big eyes and you're skinny as all hell." 

"If I'm a gremlin, you're a fucking Sasquatch!" 

Richie toasted him, feeling the hole he had felt all his life starting to fill up. "I've been called worse." 

"Like what?" 

"Your stepdad." 

Eddie burst out laughing. "What the fuck does that even mean?" 

"It means," Richie grinned, "that me and your mom... wow, Eds, I swear, the things she does to me... she does this one thing with a butternut squash and-" 

"Beep fucking beep, Trashmouth!" 

They looked at each other. "Beep beep?" Richie asked. "Trashmouth? What does that even mean?" 

He made it sound like a joke, but everything that Eddie was saying felt so right, and even though he felt like _beep beep_ was a little bit of an insult, Trashmouth felt... familiar. Richie used to be called that, back when he was a kid, in... somewhere. Maine. He felt like it started with the letter D. Eddie shrugged. 

"I don't know," he admitted. Eddie squinted at him. "I- did we grow up together, or something? Where did you grow up?" 

Richie hated that he was drawing a blank. "Uh..." 

"What?" Eddie laughed. "Can you not remember or something?" 

Embarrassed, he took another sip of his scotch. Eddie looked down. 

"I don't remember, either," he said softly. Richie's attention snapped to him. 

"Are you fucking-" 

Eddie's phone started ringing and he couldn't help but look at the picture on the screen. Eddie apologized and turned it over. 

"That was my wife," he explained meekly. 

"Your _wife?_ She- she looks exactly like your mother!" 

"Fuck you, man. I don't even remember what my mother looks like, how the hell do you?" 

"Because I fucked her so many times, obviously." 

"Yeah, like I fucked your sister." 

Richie laughed out loud. "Whoa, Spaghetti's got some _sauce!"_

Eddie looked at him questioningly. "Spaghetti?"

"Yeah!" said Richie proudly. "Eddie Spaghetti!" 

"No one in their right mind would ever think of that, ever," he deadpanned. Richie shrugged happily, smiling for what felt like the first time since high school. Wait. He didn't even remember high school.

"That's part of the magic, Spaghetti," Richie winked. "I'm never in my right mind." 

"What does that mean, are you drunk or high all the time? That would explain all the shit you do on stage. That humping thing? Fucking gross." 

"You know you loved it." 

"No," Eddie said, grinning, "I really didn't." 

Richie pointed at him. "You have a kinky side, I just _know_ it."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Sure." 

"Hmmmm," Richie said dramatically. "I think you like... bondage, spanking, hair pulling, and-" 

"No!" Eddie almost yelled, repulsed. "That's disgusting." 

Richie nodded wisely. "So, you just like the classic missionary position? You like it all nice and vanilla?" 

Eddie rubbed his face with his hand. "This really isn't appropriate," he sighed. 

"So what you're telling me is-" 

"My wife and I don't really like sex," Eddie said quickly. Richie gaped at him. 

"Are you serious?" he demanded. "A hot piece of ass like you, not having sex? I mean, it would be like fucking your mother, I get that, but seriously, you're _hot!"_

Eddie stared at him and he wanted to die. Why the living hell would he ever say that? But- but why would Eddie admit that he had a bad sex life? 

"Sorry," Eddie said. "I don't know why I said that. Uh, Myra and I, we- our sex life is fine. It's fine." 

"Yeah, uh, I'm sorry I said that thing about you being hot, it's-" 

"No, it's fine," Eddie said quickly. "I- I'm sorry that it sounded like I said you were... unfuckable." He laughed during the last word and so did Richie. But he didn't like it when they were being careful around each other. It didn't feel right. He liked it when they bantered.

"No, trust me," he said, trying to get Eddie back to the banter, "I'm amazing in the sack." 

Eddie snorted. "If that's what helps you fall asleep at night." 

"Oh, wow, that was uncalled for-" 

"Would you like to order?" asked a waiter, making the two of them jump slightly. Richie and Eddie laughed a little bit. 

"Sorry, we haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet," Eddie apologized. 

"Take your time," said the waiter politely before walking away. 

They looked at each other and smiled. 

"I guess we should order," he said.

"I guess so." 

They picked up the menu and looked over it. It didn't take long for Eddie to exclaim in disgust. Richie looked at him, confused. 

"Rich," Eddie said, motioning to the menu, "they have fucking _pickled cow tongue."_

"Let's get it." 

"Fuck no!" 

"Can't be worse than eating your mom out, at least this thing won't leave me choking on _hair-"_

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Eddie cackled. "She did think that shaving caused STDs." 

"Fuck," Richie said loudly, "that explains _so much!"_

Eddie frowned. "What does that mean?" 

Richie held out his hands. "It explains why I'm so riddled with STDs!" 

"Fuck you." 

"Later. I'm hungry." 

They got a plate of appetizers while they waited for their meals. They were bantering about salsa and its health benefits when Richie said, 

"Yeah, I used to have this friend, his name was Stan, I don't know where he is now, but he always said that he wanted to make his own salsa." 

"Yeah, and Bill asked if he and his future wife would be taking cooking classes." 

"Do you think they do?" 

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Eddie laughed. 

And then they noticed what was wrong with what they were talking about. 

"Um." 

Child images of Stan and Bill were barely in Richie's mind's eye. Eddie was staring at him and Richie was staring right back. The waiter came up to them and placed Eddie's meal, something vegan, in front of Eddie first, making both the men jump. 

"Thanks," Eddie said instinctually. Richie took his food and thanked him, too. The waiter nodded and walked away. 

"Uh, sorry, who's Stan?" Richie had to ask. Eddie shook his head helplessly. 

"I don't know," he said, sounding troubled. Eddie motioned between them with his pointer finger. "This is weird." 

Richie snorted. "No shit." 

"No, seriously. This is fucking weird." 

_"Yeah,"_ said Richie, "no shit." 

"Rich..." 

"See?" Richie pointed at him. "No one calls me that. Ever. It's Richie all the way. Or Richard if someone's mad at me." 

"Okay, _Richard,_ do we know each other?" 

"No! I would remember you!" 

"Are you sure?" Eddie asked. "Because you're a celebrity. You meet a lot of people." 

Richie nodded. That was fair. "Well, because you're _mean,_ you said I was obnoxious, which isn't true. Would you remember me?" 

"I mean, I would try and block you out, but yeah." 

"Hey," Richie said defensively, smiling, "I think we're having a nice time." 

Eddie grinned and took a sip of his wine. "We are." 

"Aw," Richie cooed. "Do you still think I'm obnoxious?" 

"Yes," Eddie said, sounding confident. 

"Ah, I see you are a man of no culture." 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Sure. People like listening to you for some reason, right?" he asked. Richie shrugged. "Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a wife?" 

Now that, Richie did have an answer to. He just didn't know if he could say it aloud. If he said it now, he would make it weird. He'd have to say that he wasn't into Eddie, which was a lie, but he wanted Eddie to stay. For some reason, he never wanted to let Eddie slip out of his fingers again. Again? No, not again. He didn't want Eddie to hate him was all.

Richie laughed it off. "Eh, I'm not into dating or marriage." 

"Then why do you lie in your shows?" 

Fuck. "Oh, for views, of course." 

Eddie squinted at him. "Are you gay?" 

Richie choked on nothing. _"What?"_

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Eddie fumbled. "It's just- you're an attractive guy, I was just wondering-" 

"If you had someone to be jealous of?" 

Ah, yes, his coping mechanism: humor. 

Eddie glared at him. "No, idiot." 

"I'm an idiot?" Richie laughed. "You just asked if I was queer." 

"You're right," Eddie said, holding his hands up, "it's an invasion of privacy." 

What possessed Richie to say this, he had no idea, but he shrugged and quietly said, "Well, I am." 

Eddie blinked. "Oh," he squeaked. 

Was it that he liked Eddie? That he felt safe? That he felt like- like someone Richie used to know, back in simpler times, before he knew? 

"Well, anyway," Richie said loudly, "are you?" 

"No," Eddie answered. 

"You hesitated." 

He did. 

"No, I didn't!" 

"You so did." 

"No!" 

"Ya-huh." 

"Nuh-uh! What the hell are we doing? We're not children." 

"Maybe you're not," Richie grinned. "I'm a child at heart." 

"Wow, that's reassuring coming from a forty-year-old," Eddie deadpanned. "Do you have some candy for me?" 

"Whoa, fuck you!" he cackled. "Not all of us can be ripped!" 

"I never said I was!" Eddie laughed. 

"I'm like, 98% sure you're a gym rat." 

"So what if I am? I like getting my stress out that way." 

"Why don't you have sex like the- oh, right. Sorry." 

Silence fell between them and started eating. After a couple of seconds, Eddie reached over and stole one of Richie's fries. 

"You little shit." 

Eddie grinned as he ate the fry, shrugging. 

"I'd steal some of yours, but I don't like rabbit food." 

"Have you ever heard of a vegetable?" 

"No," he deadpanned. "Tell me more, Famer Eds." 

"Don't call me Eds." Again, it sounded scripted. Like it had been said far more times than it really had. Eddie put up his hands and started miming farming while explaining it before Richie eventually said, 

"You know, someone looking in will think you're miming something you want to do to me later." 

Eddie's hands dropped. "Well," he said shakily, holding back laughter, "I guess you were right about me being kinky." 

Richie threw his head back and laughed. 

\---

While Richie was watching TV, his phone rang. He thought that maybe it was Eddie. They had decided that they wanted to hang out again, much to Richie's delight and dismay. Sure, he wanted to be around Eddie, but he also wanted to hold him and keep him safe from... a demonic space clown or something. He looked at his phone. It was from some weird place in Maine. 

Derry. 

He frowned. Derry. That felt familiar. He shook off the growing Feeling and answered the phone. 

"Hello?" 

"Richie?" 

His blood ran cold. He didn't know why. "Yeah?"

"It's Mike." 

His mouth was dry. He was overwhelmed with... fear. He was terrified. 

"Mike Hanlon." 

"Hey, Homeschool," is what came out of his mouth instead of telling this man to fuck off and never call him again. 

"You remember me?" Mike asked hopefully. Richie couldn't talk. "Well, uh, I'm calling to say that... we beat It. We beat It, twenty-seven years ago. It's dead. Really." 

"Clown." Richie's voice was shaky. 

"Yes!" Mike almost yelled. "Me, you, Bill, Stan, Eddie, Ben, and Bev! We killed it! We're safe-" 

Richie was happy he was already sitting down because he would've fallen if he wasn't. "Eddie," he croaked out. 

"And- yeah, Eddie. I already called him. You're the last one. Everyone else wants to meet up in New York? How do you feel about that?" 

Richie laughed. His childhood and all his memories suddenly came back and hit him like a truck. He dropped his phone and barely made it to the sink before he was throwing up. He stood there for a while, shaking, almost in tears, before he went back to his phone. 

"Mike?" he asked, his voice raw. 

"Richie! Are you okay?" 

"I'm fucking fantastic. We can use my apartment!" He sounded hysterical. 

"Rich, take a breath-" 

"I'm sorry, could I call you back?" 

He didn't wait for an answer. He hung up and slammed his phone down on the table and put his face in his hands. 

Pennywise.

Derry. 

Bev. 

Bill. 

Mike. 

Stan. 

Ben. 

_Eddie._

Holy shit, Eddie. His phone started ringing and it scared the shit out of him. He looked at it. It was Eddie. 

"Eds-" 

"Tell your doorman you know me!" he yelled frantically. Richie frowned. 

"What?" 

"Tell him you know me!" 

"Uh, Hank, I know him! His name is Eddie, uh-" 

"That works! Did Mike call you?" 

Richie blinked and almost cried. "Yeah." 

"What floor?" he asked. 

"Seventeenth." 

"Room?" 

"C9." 

Eddie hung up. A couple of moments later, there was pounding on his door. He ran to get it. Upon throwing it open, Eddie launched himself into Richie's arms. 

"Richie!" he sobbed. 

Richie tried to be strong, which lasted a couple of milliseconds. He started crying and hugged Eddie tightly. 

"It almost killed you," he sobbed. "You broke your arm and me and Bill, we- Bev stabbed It with a fucking piece of the fence, she's a badass- and Stan- Stan's _real,_ Eddie!"

"I know," the tiny man cried back. "We're alive. We killed It." 

"We're alive," he repeated. "We did it." 

Eddie pulled away and looked at him. "You look so fucking different!" he laughed. "No wonder you had bangs, your forehead is fucking huge!" 

_Hammock. Socks. Summer. The Quarry. Those eyes. Those lips. That face. Those fucking shorts and his shirts and that dumbass fanny pack-_

Oh, shit. All of Richie's turn-ons- those were because of _Eddie._

In that moment, Richie remembered that he was in love with his best friend. It hit him so hard that he stumbled against the wall, away from Eddie. 

"Richie, are you okay?" he asked. 

"I'm fucking great, Eds." 

_R + E_

"Don't call me Eds," Eddie laughed. "You fucking disaster." 

"Look who's talking!" 

Eddie looked down at the floor. "I'm going to get a divorce." 

Richie blanked out for a second. "I'm sorry, _what-"_

"I'm going to get a divorce," Eddie repeated, this time with more confidence. "I-" he burst out laughing. "I married my mom, Richie! Literally!" 

He laughed, too. "You fucking did, man." 

"I did because I was scared because I'm-" 

He closed his mouth. Richie, still being overwhelmed with new information that was fucking with him quite a bit, didn't really catch on. "You what?" 

Eddie looked at him with wide, confident eyes. "I'm gay." 

Well, if Richie's day wasn't an emotional roller coaster before, it sure as hell was now. 

"You- you- you're- gay? Eddie, that- that's fucking- fuckin- _dude."_

"Thank you, Richie. How fucking coherent of you." 

Richie held his arms out and motioned to him. "I'm sorry, this is a lot-" 

"Fuck you," Eddie breathed. He shut the door and pulled Richie into a tight hug. And that was where they stayed for a long time, thinking back, about their childhood, until Eddie's stomach growled and Richie laughed. 

"Hungry?" he teased. 

"Yeah," Eddie admitted sheepishly. "Uh-" 

"I'll order something." 

Richie pulled away and went to his phone. "What do you want?" 

"Are you gay, though? Were you serious yesterday?" Eddie asked. He sounded desperate. Richie cleared his throat. 

"Uh-" What did he have to lose? Eddie had just come out to him. But if he knew, then maybe he'd _know know_ and- 

"You are, aren't you?" 

"Jeeesus, you can't even let a man come out on his own, can you?" Richie said sharply, not meaning it and Eddie knew it. "Yes, I'm gay." 

Eddie smiled widely. "When'd you know?" 

_When I saw you yell at Bowers. You were so short and cute and so angry. But you looked so happy at that moment... and that's when I knew: I wanted to be with you forever._

He shrugged. "You know, when I got off to the boys in porn mags, not the girls." 

"I knew when you beat the high score in Battlestar Galactica. You were jumping around and screaming. You got us kicked out. But you kissed my cheek before you ran through the streets, screaming." 

Richie stared at him as he came closer. Soon, Eddie was right next to him on the couch. 

"When did you _really_ know?" he whispered. 

"When you were yelling at Bowers," Richie rambled out. "You looked really cute and happy and-" 

Eddie kissed him. It was just lips on lips, no tongue, but Richie let out a desperate sound that he was sure he'd never made before. He pressed forward and put his hand on Eddie's chest. 

He'd always wanted this. With Eddie, specifically. When their tongues slipped together and he heard Eddie sigh, he noticed that the Feeling wasn't there anymore. Because he remembered. He remembered _Eddie._ He remembered Bev and Bill, Stan and Mike and Ben. 

He remembered always wanting to hold Eddie close, to kiss him and laugh with him and hold his hand. 

So when Eddie's hands were in his hair, tugging, and he was kissing deep into Richie's mouth, groaning as they ground against each other on the couch, he smiled giddily. Eddie pulled away, panting. 

"What?" he asked. 

"Nothing," Richie said softly, looking at the man before him. The man, not the teenager... his other half. His best friend. "I've just been wanting this since I forgot." Shit, now was really not the time to start crying. "I kind of remembered you," he admitted. "I didn't- I always felt like I was missing something." 

Eddie wiped his tears. "Me too," he murmured. "I just thought it was because I was in a loveless marriage, but-" 

Richie laughed. "Fuck you." 

Eddie kissed him gently and he leaned into it, wrapping his arms around his best friend's skinny waist. It all ended when Eddie's stomach growled again and they both laughed. 

"Come on, I'll actually order food this time." 

Eddie rolled off him but cuddled into Richie's side and intertwined their fingers. He could hardly focus as he placed their orders just because of that, so needless to say, he didn't even remember what they were watching or if they were even watching a movie at all when he and Eddie made out and he gave Eddie a blowjob. When Eddie gave him a handy, he didn't even remember where he was, just _Eddie._

_Eddie, Eddie, Eddie._

\---

"You two knew each other before the call?" Bev demanded. 

"Literally the day before," Richie laughed. 

"He tried to poison me," Eddie deadpanned. 

"Richie!" Bill said disapprovingly, laughing. 

"I did not!" 

"He tried to feed me pickled cow tongue." 

"Well, you do kiss him, so I'd say he _did_ poison you."

Richie laughed. "Fuck you, Stan." 

Stan casually put his arm around his amazing wife, Patty. "No, thank you." 

"Darn," Eddie sighed. "You could've saved me." 

Richie pouted and missed Bev taking Ben's hand. "You're so mean to me, Spaghetti," he whined.

Eddie kissed him sweetly. "Someone has to keep your massive ego in check."

"That's not the only thing that's massive-" 

"Beep beep!" Ben yelled. "Jesus, you haven't changed." 

"It's all part of the charm," Richie grinned. 

Ben rolled his eyes. _"Please_ change."

"Yes," Eddie repeated. "Change." 

"Richie!" Bill said, "I love you j-just the way you are! Come love me!" 

Richie pushed Eddie off his lap and stood up to go over to Bill, yelling, "I'm breaking up with you! Only _Bill_ can love me right!"

Eddie, who had just sat down in Richie's chair, crossed his arms and smiled. "Yeah, sure. I call best man at your wedding." 

"Bitch," Richie said loudly, "you'd better be right up at the altar with me." 

Eddie's eyes sparkled. "Sure, Rich. Whatever you say." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
